


Maps

by thelastbarricade



Series: Hemlock Grove Prompted fics [4]
Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Hallucinations, Hemlock Grove - Freeform, M/M, Major character death established: Roman's, Peter Rumancek x Roman Godfrey, Romancek, S3 spoilers, Vargulf!Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 22:12:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5350334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelastbarricade/pseuds/thelastbarricade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wilderness had become his home.</p><p>There were voices in the trees, the earth.<br/>There was blood in the sap of each branch and trunk he slept beneath;  pulsing, clawing out to him--crying to him for forgiveness.</p><p>Peter had been running for so long.<br/>He was so tired.<br/>He would never again have a home.</p><p>After all, he'd ripped the heart out of the only home he had ever known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maps

_You must make your heart of steel._

 

 Peters feet ached in the tattered boots that clothed them. He didn't feel the ache so much as hear it. He blinked. Pushing the flickers of figures in his vision away. 

  The figures lingered in his vision; tall and lean and dark and somber.

 

  All the figures were the same.

  Same height and frame, same eyes and skin.

  Same face.

  He was tired but his body no longer registered it.

  Sensations of deprivation vibrated in his body, the exhaustion. Like a subtle reminder. A muffled alarm.

  His human body could no longer process a proper resonse to pain, exhaustion, emotion.

 

  The Vargulf sat in the drivers seat most days, clicking it's claws upon the gas pedal, just revving the engine all twenty four hours of every day--just reminding Peter of what he had done. Become.

 

  Peter sat huddled beneath a willow in a small clearing not too far from Hemlock Groves city limits. His heels dug into the earth, nais bitten and broken as the brushed at dirt so soaked into his fabric the color was almost casual. He brushed a lock from his face, hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, adorn with fallen flowers and dying leaves.

 

  He couldn't remember day or night, either. There was simply a constant whine in his head, a need. A need to move and breathe and _be._ Even if his entire being was a memory. 

 

  _Peter_. It called.

 

  That voice so sweet, so hard and cold. Welcoming and familiar.

  It knew his name.

  It knew the deepest parts of him that he'd tried to rip out. Rip apart.

His teeth clicked together incessantly as night approached. Sunset dripping down like blood unto the dusk.

 

  _He's coming. He's coming. Hescominghescominghescominghes_

 

_Here._

 

 _"I'm sorry."_ Peter's screams tore into the branches, reverberated in the earth and filled the streams.

  It washed over him like fire and filled him like maggots spewing from a corpse.

Roman's form twisted itself through the fading light of the trees, seeping out into the fading shadows--consuming.

 

  Eyes like fire, but whole and natural and calm like nature's destruction gazed unto the Vargulf and touched the heart he hadn't torn from its sheath.

 

  Peter covered his mouth and his eyes, covered his ears, head falling to his knees as the pressure in his head and beneath his skin grew.

 

" _Oh, my love._ " Roman's voice spilled like honey from his lips, pale skin still stained with crimson as if his choking breaths had just left them. He let his long dead fingers reach out from the mist from which he came, spindles of darkness following their wake. 

" _My love,"_ _  
_

 

  Peters nails itched in their beds, his teeth shook in his skull and his eyes began to bleed through his tears. Hot and horrid.

 

 _"My love."_ The being before Peter licked it's lips, eyes accusing and hurt and devoid of what they used to be. What he used to love. It's voice was a whisper, a whirlwind. They were a putrid yet wonderful sound upon Peters ears.

He was so sick.

He couldn't help it.

Wouldnt.

 

" _I know."_ Roman's nails, caked with dirt and blood, crusted and cruel yet stI'll pale and perfect, ran themselves over Peters temple. Lovingly. " _I know."_

 

Peters skin split at the touch. A vicious roar tearing through the air as he lost the last parts of himself that ever really mattered...to the only person who ever really mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> I had to drabble a bit to get back into things, guys!
> 
> This was inspired by Mallory Knox's song "Maps" from my Romancek Playlist on Spotify.
> 
> I have a new Tumblr: @normaanbates, feel free to send me prompts or suggestions!
> 
> {I'm in the process of hopefully continuing some of my works. Which ones should I continue on? Let me know via my tumblr!}


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